Someone Like You
by Vitula
Summary: Merlin is sent away on a mission for Camelot and returns to find that it's the day of Arthur and Gwen's wedding.  Angst.


Written at the request of a friend and inspired by Adele's song "Someone Like You". Merlin is sent away on a mission for Camelot and returns to find that it's the day of Arthur and Gwen's wedding.

Disclaimer: Song belongs to Adele and all Merlin characters belong to the BBC and their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.

Merlin had known that something was up when Arthur had asked him to deliver a package to the druids. Running errands was a waste of his time and abilities, and while he might appear to outsiders to be nothing more than Arthur's servant, he knew that the king had more respect for his talents to use him for a job that could be done by one of the knights' squires. Still, it wasn't his time that he was angry about but the fact that Arthur wasn't being honest with him. If there was a valid reason for him to be the one to deliver this parcel, the least the man could have done was tell him so that he wouldn't be running across the countryside getting drenched and wondering if he'd slighted or otherwise angered his mercurial friend.

No, he hadn't, Merlin decided. They argued occasionally, of course – Arthur's temper wouldn't have it otherwise when he was passionate about something – but if an offense grave enough to ship him out of Camelot had been committed, they would have had words. He wouldn't just be trekking around in the damned middle of nowhere over a box.

Biting his lip with frustration, Merlin squinted at the field. Had he already walked through here? This looked too familiar. He grasped the map in his satchel and pulled it out so quickly that the box came tumbling out as well, bouncing once on the soggy ground before rolling into the bushes. The warlock pressed two fingers to his brow, massaging the tension out with a shaky breath. He was making this trip longer in his frustration. Arthur's odd behavior was to be expected. He'd only lost his father a month ago, a sudden death that had landed him on the throne earlier than any of them had anticipated, and what sort of a friend would he be if he couldn't deal with Arthur being a bit more difficult than usual if that was how he handled it? Yes – if Merlin could just put it out of his mind for a few days, he could drop off the box and return to Camelot to get the whole thing sorted out.

On that thought…

The box had sunk down into the muck, and Merlin tried to lace his fingers together under the ooze so that he could pull it out without damaging any of the delicate inlay on the top before giving up and just tugging on the lid. He wasn't expecting to break the latch in his haste, or to see the single scrap of parchment that lay inside.

"_Don't hate me."_

It was Arthur's handwriting, and it stole the air from Merlin's body.

Suddenly, all he could think of was getting back to Camelot as quickly as possible before the weight that had settled into his chest crushed him from within.

Merlin may not have been as well educated as Arthur, but it only took him one look at the path leading into Camelot to realize what had occurred while he was off delivering the – no, not delivering the package, he corrected himself, while he was off being distracted by Arthur's all-too-deliberate head games. The trees lining the walkway were draped in garlands of flowers, too cheerful in their bright coloration to be in mourning for the last king, and too elaborate to not be Arthur's doing.

As he crumpled to his knees on the path, a part of Merlin's mind noted, as if he was observing himself from a distance, that he was torn between the brief moment of glee he felt at crushing the petals beneath him and destroying that tangible reminder of Arthur's wedding festivities, and his irrational desire to burn them all.

As if erasing their existence would be enough to negate what Arthur had done.

Logically, he'd known this would happen, some day. His close friendship with Arthur and the moments they'd shared where it had boiled over into something more had been exhilarating, but he'd always known that Arthur would have to take a wife. Even if he never loved her – even if, some day, that connection they'd shared had grown to the point where they stopped denying it to one another – his duty as king would still require that he have an heir. Merlin might have magic, but he couldn't just create a baby. He could provide what Arthur wanted, but not what he needed for his kingdom.

He'd thought he had more time than this, though.

That had been one of the reasons Merlin had turned down Gwen when she'd admitted her feelings for him. It had been tempting, the idea of a relationship with someone he cared for that would be simple, easy – allowed. They had become close friends, but when Merlin ran his hands through her hair, he had to pause when his fingers became stuck in the unexpectedly long strands, and when she kissed him, he had to bite down on his lip out of fear that the name that came out would be too revealing.

He cared for her too much, as a friend, to put her through that. Selfishly, though, he also cared too much about keeping Arthur close to contemplate all the potential consequences, so he pushed and he prodded, and listened and gave advice like a good, caring, altruistic friend. Gwen found herself more willing to tolerate Arthur's rudeness knowing that someone as kind as Merlin saw something worthwhile in him, and Arthur found his confidence increased through Merlin's encouragement. It was, however, the most selfish act he could commit short of somehow stealing Arthur away for his own. Gwen kept Arthur distracted from other women that he might otherwise court and kept him pining for her, giving him a reason to sabotage his father's attempts to marry him off to a more noble match in hopes that the two of them might have a future together some day. Arthur's frequent trips and time spent with Gwen were a good excuse for Merlin to spend time with both of them, and if that was what he could have, then he would hold onto it tightly. Merlin hadn't expected Uther's death, had resolutely pushed off thoughts of the day that Arthur might have the power to get rid of the laws preventing him from marrying a commoner like Gwen as something so far in the future that it wasn't even worth considering.

Merlin wasn't a fool. He'd known that what they had would always be a side note to some other relationship, and at least Arthur had chosen an amazing woman like Gwen who could support and love him without allowing herself to be overshadowed. Even in the first moment he'd begun to have feelings for Arthur, he'd known it would never be some sort of fairy tale romance, but he had thought he'd have more time to make memories with Arthur that he could hold onto after it ended. He hadn't expected this tenuous bond between them to be ripped apart – but really, how did one say goodbye to a relationship that had never truly begun?

Merlin supposed he ought to be grateful that Arthur had thought to send him out of Camelot during the wedding. He hadn't had to sit through flowery speeches and toasts at the wedding. Arthur had given him the opportunity to deal with this on his own terms rather than enduring it in public. He knew then though, with a sudden clarity, that there really were no options. He couldn't abandon Arthur. He would stay away for a few more days, long enough to have delivered the box. Arthur would know better, but there would be no questions from anyone else, and he knew that they would never discuss the message.

Merlin could feel the weight in his chest settle, condensing into something solid. He would stand by Arthur's side each day until that weight pushed too hard to endure. The only legacy of their bond was in their own memories, and if that were the only place he had left with Arthur, then Merlin would stick around long enough to ensure that he could never be forgotten.


End file.
